


Ache

by littleminilynn



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:44:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21517684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleminilynn/pseuds/littleminilynn
Summary: A look into how Klaus' drug addiction started.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Kudos: 25





	Ache

my jaw was still achey the night after i got the wires taken off; eight weeks with your mouth practically sewn shut did that to you.  
i stared up at the ceiling, the mattress uneven against my back. inhale, exhale. sometimes i could pretend i was a piece of driftwood out on open water, lulling myself off to sleep.   
not tonight.  
restlessly, anxiously, i moved into a thousand sleeping positions, but unconciousness wasn't meeting me.  
oxycodone.   
the word rolled off my tongue when i whispered it. the doctor had given it to me to take for the pain during those eight weeks, little tablets that i could fit in between the wires.   
my jaw was sore now. why shouldn't i take it if i had some leftover?  
technically, oxycodone was the name of the actual medicine, but the version i got was oxycontin.   
nonetheless, it was extremely effective.   
i forced myself up, placing my feet on the thin carpet floor. part of me was worried - what if mom caught me getting into the container?   
i shook my head. no, it was just like taking those little red ibuprofen when any of us had a headache. the only difference was that oxycontin wasn't red.   
i yawned, something i hadn't been able to do without wanting to cry for 3-4 months. it sent little shooting pains through my face, but it was hugely less painful than it had been.   
still…  
i huffed a breath and eased my way across the room, down the stairs. the stairs still made me nervous since the accident, but i shoved the anxiety away. i needed the oxycontin so i could sleep.  
i weaved my way through the halls until i got to the medicine cabinet and swore under my breath.   
of course it was locked - mom always worried about us eating something we weren't supposed to.  
chewing a nail, i considered my options. i could a) wake mom up and ask her to get the medicine or b) wake diego up and ask him to use a hairpin and get the cabinet open.   
i decided on the latter.   
making my way to my brother's room, i cringed as the floorboards scraped under my bare feet. if dad knew i was up and slinking around like this, he'd be pissed.  
after what felt like ages, i shouldered my way into diego's room. ever the light sleeper, he woke up instantly.   
“klaus?” his voice was groggy with sleep, and he sat up onto his left shoulder. “it's past midnight.”  
i hung back in his doorway, suddenly feeling stupid for coming to diego's room in the first place.  
“what is it?” my brother noticed my lack of confidence, swinging his legs off the bed and preparing to get up.  
i rubbed the nape of my neck. “could you uh, i don't know, get the medicine cabinet open for me?”   
diego's brow furrowed. “your wires are out. is the pain still that bad?” he paused. “why don't you just ask mom?”  
i shrugged. “i don't know. i don't want to bother her more.”   
“so you wake me up instead.” diego rolled his eyes but it dissolved into a smirk. “whatever. i'll use my incredible lock-picking skills to help the injured.”   
we crept back downstairs and found our way to the medicine cabinet. it took a few tries, but after a short time, diego had the door swung wide open.   
“can i get a “thank you” maybe?” diego stood with his arms crossed, but when i didn't say anything, we both burst into a laughing fit.   
i lowered my volume quickly, remembering the whole point of diego opening the cabinet and not mom.   
as we prepared to part ways at my brother's door, i nodded to him.   
“seriously. thank you.”   
“yeah, yeah. you owe me one.”   
he receded into his room and i tiptoed back to mine, clutching one of the oxycontin tablets in my sweating palm.   
i settled onto the edge of my bed, scrounging up a day old glass of water to down the medicine. it never kicked in immediately, but after about twenty minutes, i felt the pain in my jaw lessen.   
the thing about oxycontin - it also made the ghosts go away for awhile. i don't know how it worked, but the tablets always made me so much more relaxed. none of the dead even spoke to me so long as the medicine was in action.   
and it felt so good, to not have all the people that had died horrible deaths and missed their families screaming at me, clawing at me.   
i sunk into the mattress, feeling no motivation to sit up or do anything. all i wanted was to lie here, to surround myself in this blissful silence forever and ever and-  
somewhere in my oxycontin-induced phase, i had gotten so glazed over that i passed out. the sun dripped onto my walls, signaling that it was well into the morning. what time even was it?  
slowly, i went to turn onto my opposite side to look at my alarm clock. ben burst into my room first.  
“hey, didn't you hear us?”  
i tiredly fumbled for something to say. “what?”  
ben cast me a puzzled look. “mom's been calling for you to get up for like 45 minutes.” he hesitated. “are you okay?”   
holding my head in my hands, i simply replied with “yeah.”  
“c'mon, breakfast is still warm. it's also, you know, almost 11.”  
i was a lot dizzier than i initially thought.   
my attempt to get out of bed resulted in me falling onto my ribs and hip. i let out a small yelp and ben rushed to my side.  
as soon as he assessed that there was no blood, he carefully helped me up. “are you sure you're good? because-”  
“i'm fine. just didn't sleep much when i had the wires in.”  
or ever, really.  
breakfast was waffles piled high with whipped cream and blueberries, seemingly endless puffs of dairy and gluten. the smell was overwhelming, so much so that i had to stumble to my seat beside ben.   
i wanted to eat. so badly.  
all i had been afforded in eight weeks was liquidised forms of previously solid meals and now that i actually had the opportunity to eat until i was inflated, i couldn't bear it.   
mom set my plate in front of me.   
i stared at the food like it was the most complicated thing i had ever witnessed. my siblings stared at me like i was a chemo patient.  
diego sat to my right. he was watching me intently between bites of maple syrup and fruit - i nodded at him to get him to stop looking.   
“aren't you going to eat something, klaus?” mom's voice was like wind chimes, attentive and pleasant and beautiful. “this would be your first meal since the procedure.”   
she was so matter-of-fact and convincing. by nature, i wanted to make her happy. i picked up my fork and dug into a corner of one of the waffles, but as soon as it hit my tongue i felt acid come up my throat.   
the fork clattered to the ground, breakfast still attached, as i pushed my chair out to retch on the wooden floor.   
the embarrassment of it only increased my tension, and i just kept heaving and heaving without signs of stopping.   
i could feel everyone's eyes on me, all of them except mom cringing back in disgust. i heard allison say something in an uneven tone behind me.   
ben knelt at my side, his hand on my back, telling me to try to breath through it.   
i started crying instead.   
all of the fear and claustrophobia of the past eight weeks, the past twelve years, knocked me onto my knees and left me gasping for a breath, just one damn breath.  
grace was there, standing over me and trying her best to make it better. diego and five inched towards me while the rest held back.   
the ghosts were there, too. back and more desperate than ever for someone to validate them, someone to listen to them, someone to tell them what to do and how to come back to life and it was all too much.  
“will one of you help klaus back to bed?” mom finally spoke. “he seems to need some more rest.”  
i heard diego step closer. “i will.”  
“i can help.” ben said softly, patting my shoulder once.   
the two of them decided to support either one of my arms. good thing, because if not for that i would've fallen down the stairs and broken something other than my jaw.   
“just a couple more steps.” diego urged calmly, none of the teasing from last night in his voice now.  
ben stumbled under my weight a little as my foot missed a part of the stairs. “almost there, klaus.”  
my head hung back slightly, as if it wasn't connected to my body. the nausea was nearly making me black out. my stomach was devoid of all nutrients.   
this was almost as bad as my face splintering open on the bottom steps. i had just thrown up and now my brothers had to help me into my room like i was a helpless toddler.  
my eyes must've closed for several paces because then i was suddenly being placed onto my bed as best as diego and ben could manage. i shifted my torso a little so i didn't tumble onto the floor again.   
“do you need some water?” ben cleared his throat.   
i nodded, more of my head falling down near my collarbone than anything. ben hurried away to the kitchen. i knew he wouldn't be back for a minute.  
so did diego.  
he started to take big, anxious strides around my room, looking first to me and then to the carpet and then back to me again.   
he stopped finally, his breath a little shaky. “was it the medicine?”  
“i don't know.” my response was agonizingly brief and slowly delivered, but it was the best i could do.  
“i don't think you should take that stuff anymore, klaus. they eased you off of it for a reason, didn't they?”  
i exhaled sharply, the nausea coming in waves. “i don't know why they did any of this. but my jaw hurts and the oxycontin makes everything a little less terrible.”  
“what do you mean?”  
i folded my fingernails into my palms. “the ghosts go away when the tablet kicks in.”  
diego opened his mouth to say something, but ben walked in carrying a glass of water before he could respond.  
the water was set on my bedside, and the ben moved back to give me my space. he noticed the taut atmosphere between diego and i but said nothing about it.  
“hope you feel better.” was what rolled off of diego's tongue, but the underlying tone was stop taking that medicine.  
he left to go back to the table full of foods that weren't smoothie versions of something else.  
ben watched him go, and then sat at the edge of my bed, slumping a little.   
“that was kinda rough, huh?”  
“which part?” my voice was meant to come out a lot less bitter, but my vocal chords and i didn't seem to agree.   
ben was biting the inside of his cheek between sentences. “well, all of it. but the whole vomiting everywhere thing.” he paused. “sorry. that was kinda rude.”   
i chuckled quietly. “it's okay. it all just sucks, at least right now.”   
the silence hung for a moment.   
“what do you think caused it? the nausea, i mean. you were dizzy before you even got up.”  
i considered telling him about the oxycontin tablet. ben would understand, wouldn't he?  
“i took some of that medicine last night - the stuff i was on when my jaw was wired shut. i thought it would be helpful.” quickly, i added “it was overnight.”   
ben looked down, nodding. i could tell he was trying to decide what exactly he should say. he was really aware of emotion.  
“i don't know what your pain feels like, but…” my brother clenched and unclenched his jaw, then lifted his eyes. they were kind, as always. he had been the most empathetic of my siblings since i could remember. “well, i guess what i'm getting at is be careful. stuff like that can screw with your body, if you don't take it in moderation.”   
“i know.” a fresh wave of sickness hit me, and i groaned slightly.   
ben watched me, his gaze a bit sad. “you're strong, klaus. you've been through a lot of stuff that the rest of us wouldn't be able to understand, but you've always pushed through. don't...don't let yourself depend on medicine too much, okay?”   
his voice remained even and comforting in every word he spoke, and he lightly squeezed my shoulder.   
i wanted to thank him, but i didn't know how to properly so it sounded like i meant it. i settled on a small smile.  
“get some sleep. yell for me if you need anything.” ben hopped off of my bed and walked out of the room.   
my body was weakened significantly from the whole throwing up bit, and as i drifted off i weighed my options.   
-  
a week passed, and although the screams of the dead were deafening at times and i wanted nothing more than silence, i heeded to ben and diego's advice. i didn't touch the oxycontin again.  
being off of it made things difficult, though. my muscles were incredibly sore and my nose was runny all the time. i slept even less, it seemed.   
however, a part of me knew that it was for the best. the doctors told me i didn't need it anymore. i had my brothers and sisters, even if luther looked down on all of us. even if allison kept her distance from me. i still had them.  
ben especially.   
he would stay up late with me when i felt sick to my stomach or when the ghosts were practically in my face. we played card games to distract ourselves.   
one night in particular, the dead were vicious and screaming and weeping. i felt like i was surrounded and that i was going to die, that they were going to drag me into the depths of rot and blood and hollowed out skeletons, even though i knew that the dead were much more than halloween decorations.  
it was after dinner, when everyone was winding down and the house was growing dimmer. that's when the ghosts were most noticeable.   
i sat in the corner of my room, wrapping my arms around my knees and receding into myself. at least nothing could surprise me from behind.  
ben knocked on my open door, though. i think he had a sense of when it was bad.   
“hey,” his tone was friendly but not overbearing. i barely heard him over the oncoming dead. “wanna play solitaire?”   
ben knew that solitaire was boring, but it took focus and it made the ghosts a little more muted. i'd had trouble focusing recently, so much so that dad had a psychologist test me and order adderall. the prescription was supposed to be in within a few days.   
“sure.” i scrambled up out of the corner of my room, desperate to tune in on something other than the people swimming around in my head.   
the cards were all black and red print, blurring together, but it was a welcome removal from my prior thoughts.  
ben won.   
“good game, klaus.” he offered his hand and i shook it, cracking up a little at the silly formality. it felt good to laugh at something.  
we sat for a moment, our giggling dying down and then picking back up again when we looked at each other.  
in the end, my floor was a mess of solitaire cards and my stomach was sore from erupting into laughter over and over.   
ben decided to sprawl out on his back, so i followed suit. the carpet was itchy but we didn't care. this was fun and this house was so often lacking in anything close to that. it was usually calculating statements from dad and stupid arguments between us siblings and being met by ghosts at every corner.   
“what do you think it's gonna be like?” i blurted, shifting to face ben. “being grown up and out of the academy.”  
“well…” ben heaved a little sigh at the thought. “i really don't know. maybe i'll join some punk rock band out of a garage or start an animal shelter. or...i mean, anything could happen.”  
i nodded, going back to lying flat.   
“what about you? what do you want to do?” ben asked.  
i thought for a second. “maybe join the army. you can get college money from that.”  
we both chuckled.  
“maybe modeling. the whole wearing heels thing didn't go well last time but with some practice and putting a staircase out of the equation, maybe it could take me somewhere.” i continued, glad i could be this open with my brother. if i said this to one of my other siblings, it might not go as smoothly by them.   
ben's voice was soft, tired. “i think you would be an awesome model. they'd put you on the covers of magazines and everything.”   
i rolled my eyes, but the theory was kind of exciting, in truth.   
we lay on the floor in silence for awhile, happy to be comfortable for even a short time. the ghosts stayed distant and nearly inaudible.   
eventually, mom came in and told us we had to go to sleep. ben stood, stretching and yawning.  
“well, goodnight, i guess. we should play some more solitaire again sometime to make us bored and tired.”   
i smirked. “yeah, alright. maybe tomorrow night.”   
ben agreed and made his way to his own room, leaving me in a much calmer state than when he had shown up.  
-  
the next night when the adderall prescription arrived, ben had left us.   
ben had left me alone.  
mom said he was dead. i didn't hear anything after that except white noise and high frequency. maybe she stated what killed him. i didn't catch the explanation, i just sat next to my siblings and focused so hard on vanya's stain on her shirt that i felt like i was going cross-eyed.  
no more solitaire.   
no more talking about our aspirations.   
no more ben. not his smile or his light hearted jokes or his ability to motivate the rest of us when things got tough.   
“number six's funeral arrangements will get taken care of shortly,” i heard dad say those words, but he sounded far away and condensed all at once, like a whale trying to communicate in the depths of the atlantic with its frothing tides and stinging salt and down and down into the freezing dark blue-  
“you are all dismissed for today. find something useful to do.” the whale call faded in and out and he bobbed away, apathetic and blunt as ever.  
i don't recall anything between that interaction and the funeral a few days later besides taking adderall. it was supposed to focus me, stimulate my central nervous system.   
my head was dandelion seeds in a gust of wind, fuzzy and scattered and floatingfloatingfloatingfloating  
the adderall was supposed to make things sharper. i felt like someone had given me a lobotomy and opened me up, just so they could use sandpaper and scrub the inside of my skull smooth and rounded out.   
i decided that the adderall wasn't working right because of the impending funeral.   
then the day rolled around and mom adjusted my tie and it was a sea of my siblings all in black, dad in black and mom in black and the sky was black and the pavement was black and ben's eyes were shut. he didn't feel a thing when they lowered him into the ground.   
the adderall still didn't improve my focus.   
but it could alleviate the grief, if i gave it the opportunity to try.   
mom asked if i had taken my morning dose. i said no. a lie, of course, but what was the difference?   
i held out my palm like a good boy, downed the little tablet with something cold, and let myself soar through the remainder of whatever day it was.   
it was relief and just like with the oxycontin, it was bye-bye to the ghosts for a few hours.   
then the whole focus part of the medicine kicked in, and everything was clear and pointed and loud. things scraped and i clenched my teeth, gnashing them back and forth like a caveman in those stories mom used to read to us.   
ben had warned about depending on a tiny amount of chemical reaction put into a medicine tablet, and he was right.   
i knew he was right, and i knew he wouldn't want this, but everything hurt so much. he was gone and he wasn't coming back because that's the reality of death.   
we ate breakfast in silence these days. the stacks of waffles got higher but collectively, my siblings and i ate less.   
even luther seemed disengaged, like he was trying to process ben's death.   
vanya's violin echoed through the long hallways more frequently, the music somber and the notes drawn out like someone wailing.  
five was hardly ever around.   
diego, he was always busying himself. practicing at the punching bag or studying something.   
allison's makeup got heavier and her heels got steeper.   
it was a funny thing, all of us trying to cope. it was nearly working for me.   
that is, until i heard ben crying behind me.   
i didn't turn. i couldn't move, actually. my heart sped up and i waited, unsure if i had gone off the deep end or if the sobbing was real.   
no. the crying continued.   
“ben?” i breathed out the name. i still couldn't make myself look. my lungs had shrunk and i felt my knees lock up.   
the crying faltered and i heard sniffles.   
“klaus...klaus, please-”  
turning, turning, and ben was actually in front of me. supporting himself on the wall.   
he was a shell of himself, his cheeks sunken in a bit and his skin a sickly pale shade.   
but he was still ben. he was here, even with the adderall on full blast in my bloodstream. i felt a swell in my eyes, overflowing and cascading down my face.   
ben stepped towards me, his face wet with saltwater and his gaze utterly lost. my room closed in around the two of us, shoving him closer to me.   
a scream erupted from my chest, and i pedaled myself back towards the open doorway.   
“no, no, no-you're dead!” the words came out in thick, racking sobs. “we buried you...you're not even here…”  
ben's eyes seemed to sink further into his head, and he started crying again. “klaus, i don't know what's going on, i don't remember anything and i-”  
“i took my medicine!” my tone became more frantic, shifting from tears to raw screaming. “you're not here you're not here! i went to your funeral, and…” i wiped at the onslaught of water from my eyes. “...and i can't see any other ghosts on the medicine. this isn't real.”   
i was breathing hard, gasping like some sort of fish right off of the hook. my chest rose and fell as if i had just been wrapped in a tight blanket for an hour.   
ben was not faring much better.   
“i'm dead?”   
i barely heard him. his disbelief had taken the volume down several notches, paired with my refusal to accept what was happening.   
i opened my mouth. nothing coherant came out.  
my brother stared at the ground. “how did i…?”  
shaking my head, i backed away and sped out of the room, sprinting down the steps.   
left, right.   
around the corner.   
left, right.  
around t-  
“woah!” diego exclaimed as i smacked into his chest.   
i tried to push past him to get away, to distance myself from the dead brother in my bedroom, but diego held my arm.   
“hey, hey-klaus, breathe. breathe.” i couldn't breathe. diego kept trying to calm me down. “what is it?”  
i tried to jerk away, but diego's grip was strong.   
“klaus!” he shook my shoulders, eyes wide.   
“it's ben, he's in my room, he's...he's in there and he-”  
diego remained wide-eyed. “what?”  
“ben's back.” i heaved the words out like it was bile.   
“ben's dead, klaus. i know it's hard to take, but-”  
“no, his ghost!”  
i saw it click in diego's expression; he must've forgotton why i was called the seánce to begin with.   
“oh.” was all he could say, his gaze dropping. he looked back up at me. “i'm so sorry. is he-”  
i still had hiccups in between my words, mini-sobs. “he doesn't know what happened to him. he doesn't know he's dead.”  
“you've got to tell him. help him. he's scared.” diego's voice was gentle, but i was still terrified. i didn't want this.   
“diego, i can't.”   
my non-deceased brother pulled me into a tight hug, speaking into my ear. “ben needs you. nobody else's powers can do anything for him here.”   
as he let me go, i realised he was right. i had to do this.   
diego followed me as i inched towards my room again. ben was sitting next to my bed, staring down with shaking shoulders as he cried silently.   
i inhaled. blew out hot air.   
“hey, ben.”   
my dead brother's eyes shot up, his face tear-stained. “klaus? diego?”   
diego couldn't hear him, of course. he hung back beside me.   
“how are you feeling?” i asked shakily, shuffling over to where ben was and moving to sit adjacent from him. “are you in pain?”  
ben shook his head. “i feel lighter, i guess. i just...i can't believe it.”   
“i know.” i went to hold his hand, but my arm passed through him. i should've known better. “sorry.”  
ben frowned, but he seemed to be calmer. “how long has it been. you know, since…?”  
“oh, um. a few days, i think.”   
my brother nodded once, trying to take it all in. it was already hard enough for me. i couldn't imagine what it was like for ben.   
diego cleared his throat behind me, and i twisted around to see him.   
“it's almost dinner time.”   
i huffed a small breath. “okay, uh...i guess you can come with us, but i-”  
“don't worry, i don't think i can eat anyway.” ben tried his best to sound optimistic, even now. even with being dead and gone and not being able to talk to anyone else in the family but me. he still tried to laugh things off.   
diego was hesitating. “hi, ben. i don't know how all of this works for you, but…” he chewed on his lower lip, trying to keep his voice from breaking. the sudden emotion bubbling up in him was surprising to see. “i'm sorry about everything. yeah, i'm really sorry. it's just…”  
my brother trailed off, unable to continue. he covered his mouth with one hand, leaning up against the doorframe with the other. his chest rose and fell harshly, and the more he tried to stop crying the more intense the tears got.  
this was so unlike diego. i wasn't sure how to react.   
“tell him i forgive him. and i love him a lot.” ben's voice was still so unfamiliar to hear again.   
i repeated my dead brothers words, and diego was able to smile a little, light reaching through the cracks of a broken windshield.   
diego wiped at his eyes, trying to blink away any evidence of emotional eruption. he knew i wasn't going to tell anyone about it.  
“okay, okay.” sarcastic, tough-guy diego settled back in, the kid that practiced knife throwing and had snuck a swig of brandy one time. “i'll see you downstairs.”   
i nodded, then turned to face ben again.   
“you guys beat yourselves up too much.” he paused. “especially you, klaus.”   
shrugging, i moved to get up. “we'll make it.” i brushed the wrinkles out of my shirt. “i'll see you after we eat, i guess?”  
ben gestured for me to go. “don't be late. you know how dad is.”   
rolling my eyes and chuckling, i started to leave.   
“maybe we can do a round of solitaire later.” ben's voice was small, but i heard the joking edge in it nonetheless.   
“that would be good, ben.”   
with that, i started down the staircase to avoid getting ranted at by dad.   
maybe things were going to be okay.  
-  
they were, for awhile.   
two weeks went by, filled with ben learning how to adjust to being a ghost and me learning how to adjust to ben being back.   
diego was the only other sibling who knew about the whole situation.   
of course, with my abilities, i'm sure the idea of ben making himself visible to me had gone through one of my sibling's heads at some point.   
i wasn't going to make it known to them, though. i was too good at hurting rather than helping people in this family.  
sometimes ben got quiet. he would sit and stare at a spot on the wall for a long time and his eyes would well up, but he was always trying to support me. he always reminded me when to take my medicine and when i felt like i needed to take extra, he would gently assure me that it wasn't worth the damage.   
it was hard, even then. my palms would sweat and my mouth would go dry and i wanted nothing more than to feel something from the adderall.   
i tried my best for ben. it's the least i could do after everything that had happened.   
contentment was almost a realistic aspect of my life. i felt, finally, that my power had some purpose. it wasn't just dead people screaming until their throats were raw and me cowering. i could actually help one of them.  
but nothing too close to legitimate peace could stay, it seemed. not when you lived in the academy.   
i was actually eating for once. big scoops of whatever was put in front of me. training had been successful earlier in the day, and i felt famished.   
five and reginald spoke tensely, though. the entire table stilled other than my father and brother, tossing around words through gritted teeth.   
i looked down at my plate, tuning the actual conversation itself out. it was noise, like the ghosts.   
something slammed.   
it was the door, five being the one who had swung it shut so forcefully. nobody knew where he was going.  
“well, that just spoils the whole meal, doesn't it?” my father pushed his chair out, flicking his napkin down beside his fork. he left, too, but not to go after five.  
he had no concern for five.   
or any one of us at this table, aside from how impressive we could make him look or what we could destroy.   
the rest of us waited anxiously for five to come back. days passed, then weeks.   
diego wandered at night looking for him. i was tempted to follow, but the depths of the shadows in the side streets kept me home.   
he couldn't be dead.   
i couldn't take this. not again.   
months ticked by, sluggish. the police hadn't found a trace of five. diego had no idea where to even look at that point.   
dad insisted we have a funeral for him so we would stop going on about it. mom, of course, had to fulfill this wish and there i was, hunched over in the wind at a service for a presumably dead brother.   
the difference was that this was a casketless funeral.   
no one even cried at this one-either from the numbing effect that grief had or because there was a huge part of all of us that refused to accept five's “death”.   
five was probably the smartest out of all of us. if any more of us were to die, it wouldn't have been him. it would've been me, most likely. maybe a stomach full of pills or just a long walk away from home until i collapsed in the first chills of autumn and-  
“klaus.” ben couldn't physically put a hand on my shoulder anymore, but i could tell that it's what he meant to do.   
i snapped my chin up, realising that everyone else had started to slowly walk back to the car. turning, i didn't allow myself to give the funeral scene behind me a second glance. if i let the reality of it settle into my brain, everything would get louder and brighter and worse.  
things were so loud already.   
the crunch of gravel under my dress shoes sounded like jawbones splintering and breaking. the gusts of wind were close to that of people screaming. the mint tin rattling in luther's coat pocket reminded me of adderall or oxycontin, snug and secure in its little container.   
i rested my head against the car window, fresh nausea slamming into me like a boat on open water during hurricane season.   
the car stayed silent all the way back to the academy. for this i was grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> i found this in my google docs? it was 12 pages and i have no recollection of writing it, so here you go! 
> 
> this isn't proof read, so i'm sorry for any mistakes, this was written a while back. i hope u enjoy! <3


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